


your soul survives (but peace you'll never find);

by unintentionallyangsty



Series: drive the dark things away; [18]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor: Ragnarok (2017) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathing/Washing, Bittersweet Ending, Brodinsons, Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hair Washing, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), Loki Lives (Marvel), Loki is a Good Bro (Marvel), Men Crying, Muteness, Panic Attacks, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Protective Thor (Marvel), Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Thor Needs a Hug (Marvel), Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27309106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unintentionallyangsty/pseuds/unintentionallyangsty
Summary: An Infinity War au, of sorts. During the Thanos' attack on theStatesman, Heimdall manages to conjure just enough power to send Thor, Loki, Bruce, and himself hastily to Midgard seconds before Loki's neck can be snapped by the Titan.The hasty escape, however, doesn't come without its own complications, the most pressing of which being the lingering damage of Thanos' rage.Or, more specifically, Loki's sudden inability to speak.(Whumptober 2020 Prompt #24 Fill: Forced Mutism).
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Loki, Bruce Banner & Thor, Heimdall & Thor (Marvel), Loki & Thor, Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Series: drive the dark things away; [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949623
Comments: 31
Kudos: 245
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	your soul survives (but peace you'll never find);

**Author's Note:**

> Loki & Thor. the _Statesman_ and, following, Midgard. Loki is (barely) alive and Infinity War has Kind Of happened. 
> 
> written for the Whumptober 2020 Prompt #24 Fill: Forced Mutism. 
> 
> (chapter title came from the song ['If I Say'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQlKBajgBe4) by Mumford & Sons, which i really really recommend any fan of the Brodinsons take a listen to). 
> 
> **chapter warnings !** : brief mentions of self harm, panic attacks, dissociation, and descriptions of injuries. please take care of yourselves !

“Do hereby pledge to you, my undying fidelity.” 

Thor felt his eye widen as he watched, horror pooling in his gut, as Loki conjured a glimmering dagger into his left hand, hidden well from all but Thor. 

It was a movement he knew to be intentional. For he had seen Loki play the element of surprise to his favor more times than he could count, in battles of the past, and was well aware that he tended not to reveal his weapon until the very second it was poised against his enemy’s throat. 

_Odinson_ , Loki had said, eyes lingering on Thor for a split second too long to be dismissed as entirely casual, before he had turned away with an all too familiar look of steely determination just behind his otherwise impenetrable mask of blankness. 

_Odinson_ , was what he had said…

And yet Thor had heard the farewell behind it for what it was. 

_No!_ he wanted to shout, and began to struggle against the unyielding bonds of scrap metal around his shoulders with a renewed vigour. 

The blade in Loki’s hand, poised specifically so Thor could see…

Hidden, not held aloft as he had the Tesseract, minutes before. 

Ignoring the stab of fear and betrayal Thor felt rising within his chest at the thought, he turned his attention to where Loki was bending into a half-kneel, eyes cast respectfully downward as his gaze flickered unsteadily over the floor. 

Thinking, his mind working faster than Thor could even guess as the muscles in his shoulders tensed up, and he turned to strike--

Immediately, the blade in his hand froze, glimmering an unnatural blue as Loki jerked to a halt, arm outstretched as the mask over his features fell to reveal an expression of pure, unguarded terror.

Had he been able, Thor would have retched at the sight. 

As it was, he felt a wave of rage directed toward the creature that was able to bring that look to Loki’s face, so strong he nearly wavered with the force of it. 

“Undying,” the Titan murmured, almost consideringly, even as his hand closed over Loki’s outstretched arm, the bones beneath his grip creaking audibly not a moment later. 

Thor felt his stomach twist violently at the small, frightened whimper the movement produced from Loki. 

“You should choose your words more wisely.” 

There was a beat as Thanos allowed the warning to hang on the air between them for another long moment. 

Then, to Thor’s abject horror, he raised the opposite hand, the one clad in the gauntlet that now held not one, but two Infinity Stones, to close his large fingers over Loki’s neck. 

Immediately, Thor began to struggle in earnest, a series of pleas and wails surging forth from him, even as the gag around his throat did not allow them to be heard.

_Please_ , he begged, even still. _Please!_

Not Loki. Not him. 

A groan from the other end of the hall interrupted Thor’s frantic thoughts, and he allowed his gaze to fall briefly away from the scene before him (Loki struggling weakly, like an animal caught in a snare) to rest on where a figure was beginning to stir. 

And Thor watched, something like a wild hope surging within his chest, as a previously-unconscious Heimdall stirred to life, and reached out slowly to grab for the sword lying on the floor beside him. 

He murmured something unintelligible, though it was enough to draw the attention of the members of Thanos’ company. 

“Father!” One of the group cried, before surging forward to where Heimdall was laid out. 

Almost immediately, they were followed by another (the sorcerer who had gagged Thor, Thor noted), and Thanos turned to watch, his grip on Loki’s neck loosening slightly as he did. 

“Stop him!” the Titan commanded. 

“Yes, my--” the sorcerer’s cry was cut off by a grunt as Heimdall surged forward, his sword swinging barely an inch from the creature’s stomach. 

At the distraction, Thor felt his bonds loosen and, with a cry and a surge of strength he was not entirely sure that he possessed, he rose to his feet, the metal falling into a pile on the floor below. 

“Thor!” Heimdall shouted, his eyes not on Thor, but on where Loki was still held aloft in Thanos’ grip. “Grab him!” 

Thor did not need telling twice.

With a roar, he surged forward, sparks heating the spaces between his fingers as he charged toward where Thanos was stood, his attention still on the commotion at the other end of the room. 

Ignoring Heimdall’s sharp cry of pain, ignoring the agony tightening around his own ribs and shoulders at his movement, and ignoring the voice at the back of his mind telling him that this was a _phenomenally stupid idea_ , Thor dove forward and rammed his shoulder into Thanos’ side with as much force as he could muster. 

With a cry of mingled surprise and outrage, Thanos turned, loosening his grip on Loki’s neck entirely in order to clench his gauntlet clad hand into a large fist. 

Thor felt himself hit the floor below seconds after Loki’s limp form, and let out a weak cry of, “I have him!” even as the black spots dancing at the edges of his vision began to grow with alarming speed. 

Immediately, the air around them hummed to life, and Thor had just enough presence of mind to reach out a hand to grasp weakly at the armour at Loki’s shoulder, before the world went white. 

\---

When Thor awoke, it was to a frigid breeze at the side of his face, and a canopy of greenery above. 

He groaned softly as the light pierced at his sensitive eyes, the ringing at the back of his mind rising almost maddeningly in pitch. And, rather than attempt to sit up just yet, he raised a hand to prod gently at the side of his head. 

Immediately, the agony that had been dulled by unconsciousness flared back to life, and Thor released another muffled groan as he let his hand fall back to the grass below with a _thump_. 

Grass, he registered distantly. Not cold metal. Not…

Thor did sit up, then, and inhaled a sharp gasp as he cast his gaze wildly about his surroundings, his heart hammering in his throat as the events on the deck of the _Statesman_ came back to him in a rush. 

Their ship being boarded...Loki’s panicked look even as he had refused to explain, only told Thor that they needed to “go _now_.”

The Valkyrie hastily escaping with as many Asgardians as they could fit into the ship’s escape pods...The Tesseract… 

That particular memory brought with it a flash of hurt, and Thor hastily shoved it aside in favor of turning to cast his gaze around the clearing he was in, now. 

He was perched on the side of a hill, and one glance toward the small village below told him that they were undoubtedly on Midgard. 

Which, speaking of “they”... 

“Glad to see you awake, Your Highness.” a voice from over Thor’s left shoulder called before he could begin to search too frantically for his companions, the sound of it immediately soothing in its familiarity. 

“Heimdall.” Thor breathed, and turned to face where his friend was sat directly to his left, perched precariously against a tree with an almost pleased look on his face. 

“How are you?” Thor inquired, his brow furrowing as he nodded down to the wound steadily leaking blood through Heimdall’s fingers that were pressed tightly to his left side at the ribs. 

“We could all be better.” Heimdall replied with a small returning nod of his own. “You were unconscious for the better part of two hours.” he added, solemnly. “It seems that the Bifrost was too much for you, in your current state.” 

“And I thank you for it, regardless.” Thor returned with a small wince. “The others, are they--” 

“Behind you.” Heimdall interrupted, and nodded toward a point over Thor’s right shoulder. 

And, sure enough, Thor turned quickly (ignoring the groan of protest his ribs gave at the sudden movement) and found the forms of both Loki and Banner, both limp and still unconscious, sprawled out on the grass a few feet away. 

Something like panic spiked within Thor’s chest as his gaze fell on where Loki was laid out, and what little Thor could see of his face from behind a curtain of sweat and blood matted hair. 

“Banner is mostly unharmed.” Heimdall was saying, though his words hardly registered as Thor shifted, again, in order to begin scooting across the grass toward his brother’s limp form.”Your brother, on the other hand…” 

Heimdall paused, and for a moment Thor felt his throat tighten to the point of being near-asphyxiating, fearing the worst, before the once-was Gatekeeper continued, “His injuries are far more extensive.” 

With a gust of an exhale, Thor nodded, though his gaze remained fully trained on Loki, and he could not help but release a small groan of pain as he managed to drag himself forward to cross the last few feet of space between them. 

With a grunt, Thor fell back onto his haunches, and took a moment to regain his breath as the world spun slightly around him, before he leaned forward to brush Loki’s hair from his face. 

Immediately, he had to swallow back the urge to vomit. 

Loki’s face was swollen, mottled purple and red and nearly unrecognizable past the bruising. 

His neck, however, was far worse. 

It appeared almost crushed, misshapen as it was, with not a sliver of Loki’s pale skin visible beneath the large stamp of a bruise there, in the large and unmistakable shape of a hand. 

Thor shuddered and swallowed thickly as he reached out to draw Loki’s head into his lap with as much gentleness as he possibly could, an almost staggering relief sucking what little air was left in his lungs back out when he felt the faint thrum of a pulse beneath the brush of his thumb. 

Alive. Loki was _alive_. 

Without warning, Thor felt himself choke on an inhale, and raised a hand to scrub hastily at the mighty stinging behind his good eye. 

“The extent of his injuries are lost on me.” Heimdall continued from behind Thor. “But I will admit that I am surprised that he survived the journey.” 

Thor released another small choking noise, but nodded quickly and, after a sharp inhale, forced his gaze from Loki’s still features in order to turn and face Heimdall, again. 

“Where are we?” he inquired, a little roughly.

“Midgard.” Heimdall informed, “Near to the coordinates of where you wished us to land, initially.” 

There was a beat of silence, and Thor took the opportunity to swallow back against the grief he could feel surging within his chest at the reminder. 

Initially. When they had been a hurt and lost people, but a people together still. 

Not a scattered few vagabonds out of an already diminished group, journeying somewhere in the cosmos after their second harried escape in 24 hours. 

If they had managed even that.

“And the others?” Thor questioned, after a moment. “Those who escaped. Are they alive?” 

“I cannot extend my sight that far, injured as I am.” Heimdall grimaced almost sheepishly. “Though my heart tells me that they are alive and searching.”

It was not enough, not by half, but Thor nodded his thanks and dropped the issue for the time being, at any rate. 

He was able to admit, mentally and to himself alone, that at least half of his unwillingness to press further was fueled by a fear of the answer he might receive. 

“So,” he began, instead, and glanced down to the small village below. “Norway, then.” 

“It would seem.” Heimdall agreed. 

“Is there anywhere we can go?” Thor shivered and frowned slightly as another bout of frigid wind whipped through the clearing. “Even just for the night? I don’t think he should be out in the cold for much longer.”

He allowed himself to glance back down to Loki, now, his hand absently stroking the hair back from his brother’s face. 

“There is an inn not far.” Heimdall said. “That much I can see.” 

“Then we should go.” Thor replied immediately, though his stomach clenched at the thought of moving at all, at the moment. 

Not to mention lugging Loki’s body along with them. While Banner might awaken at any moment, Thor was not as confident about Loki. 

And, for all that his brother was slight, Thor was also not sure of his ability to lift him for much longer than a few minutes, in his current state. 

Which brought yet another dilemma to the forefront of his mind. 

Though it had been some time since he had been on Midgard, Thor did not imagine that the Midgardians’ reception of three bloodied and injured strangers staggering into an establishment would have become potentially any warmer, in the past few years. 

Much less three bloodied and injured strangers with an unconscious body in tow. 

“We will have to await Banner reawakening.” Heimdall spoke up, glancing pointedly to where the man in question, having shifted back to his human form sometime while Thor was still unconscious, was laid out some feet away. “We cannot manage your brother’s weight on our own.” 

“And what of Loki?” Thor prompted. “I don’t think that the Midgardians would take well to us seeking shelter like--well, this.” 

Heimdall shifted with a grunt. “I should be able to hide his presence for a few minutes.” he paused, then added, “If you can manage his weight in that time.”

Thor nodded, and ignored the way his surroundings spun slightly as he did. 

“I can.” he replied, after a moment. 

There was no room for doubt now, he reminded himself. And, at the very least, they had until Banner reawoke to steel themselves for the journey. 

\---

As it turned out, Bruce reawoke within fifteen or so minutes following the discussion, casting his gaze tentatively around the clearing before something like relief smoothed his features when his eyes landed on Thor. 

Somehow, with no small amount of assistance from Banner (who was, indeed, unharmed beyond some bruises and disorientation), Thor and Heimdall made it to their feet. 

Unsurprisingly, Loki remained unconscious throughout the process, including as, after some deliberation, Thor scooped a bulk of his weight into his arms. 

Together they stumbled clumsily toward the small village that, Thor considered, might have been barely a five minutes walk for each, were it not for their current predicament.

As it was, it took the three nearly half an hour to reach the inn, at which point both Thor and Heimdall were both panting heavily, each having shared the task of filling Bruce in on what he had missed, following his brawl with the Titan. 

Thor found that he had to stagger to a stop before the entrance to the inn, and inhale sharply past a wave of dizziness, though he had long since (reluctantly) allowed Bruce to take a good deal of Loki’s weight from him. 

“Your Highness.” Heimdall grit out, and sucked a sharp breath through his teeth as he glanced pointedly down to where Loki was propped unceremoniously against Bruce’s side, Thor’s hand still latched tightly onto his shoulder. 

“Right.” Thor nodded, and clenched his teeth before turning and, with a small smile offered to Bruce, scooping his brother into his arms. 

“H--How are we planning on, uh--” Bruce grimaced as he passed Loki back off to Thor, before he gestured a little helplessly. “You know. Paying?” 

Thor winced, and took a moment to shift Loki into a more comfortable position in his arms as he considered the question. 

“I’m not sure.” he admitted, after a beat. “Were Loki awake, we could perhaps utilize his magic to conjure a form of payment…” he let the suggestion hang there, pointedly aware of Bruce glancing doubtfully down to Loki’s limp form. 

“Right.” he answered, at length, before he turned to glance uncertainly between Thor and Heimdall. “Well you guys look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Thor shook his head slightly in bewilderment. 

“No,” Bruce blew out an exasperated breath. “I just--I mean that I should probably be the one to talk to the clerk. You guys can just--follow after.” 

“Oh.” Thor furrowed his brow, and exchanged a brief look with Heimdall before he nodded slightly. “I suppose. But--Your shirt.” 

“Oh.” Bruce parroted, and frowned down at his bare torso as if seeing it for the first time. “Uhh--Here.” he pointed to Heimdall. “Give me your cloak.” 

Heimdall raised a wry brow at being addressed so blatantly, though Thor noted that there was a hint of amusement behind the expression, and, after a moment, unfastened his cloak to hand it over without a word. 

“Thanks.” Bruce swung the article of clothing over his own shoulders, and fussed for a moment until it wasn’t trailing quite as dramatically on the ground. “Okay. Uh--Wait here until I wave out at you guys.” he commanded, worrying at his lip as he eyed the entrance to the inn. 

“Alright.” Thor agreed, and tried not to grit his teeth too obviously as he felt Loki’s weight beginning to wear on him with embarrassing speed. 

“Okay.” Bruce nodded once, twice, before turning on his heel and letting himself into the building before them, his shoulders squared determinedly. 

Thor shuffled a little uncomfortably, and allowed himself to lean back against the building to the left of the door as they waited, ignoring Heimdall’s pointed look as he leaned down to nuzzle the top of Loki’s head with his nose and took the moment to simply _breathe_ for what felt like the first time in days. 

Again, he felt a wave of grief crest within his chest, the events of the past few hours threatening to overwhelm him entirely, and had to clench his good eye shut against the force of the emotions. 

So preoccupied as he was, Thor nearly started at the feeling of a warm hand settling on the skin of his elbow, though he relaxed almost immediately when Heimdall’s gentle murmur sounded from behind. 

“All will be well, Highness.” he rumbled, and Thor managed a small nod in reply, not trusting himself to speak, just yet. 

“Great news!” Bruce’s cry as he fairly burst back out of the door beside Thor saved him from having to reply. “We don’t have to pay until we check out, so maybe by then he’ll--” he faltered, his hand half outstretched in a gesture at Loki, and winced slightly before amending, “I mean-- _when_ he wakes up, he can--” 

“I thought you were going to wave us in.” Thor interrupted hastily. 

He wasn’t at all ready for _that_ particular conversation, after all. 

“No need.” Bruce grinned crookedly. “These are the rooms!” 

He gestured behind himself at a row of cottages, similarly colored to the building he’d just exited, and brandished a set of keys in his other hand. 

Thor nodded, a wave of relief washing through him at the realization that they would not have to travel much further, and heard Heimdall exhale in what was no doubt a similar sentiment from behind. 

“Each room only has two beds.” Bruce explained as he led the group toward the cottages at the end of the row (Thor made sure to hide the bundle in his arms as best as he could, and avoided turning toward any uncovered windows). “So I got two next two each other. We can figure out who gets what later.” 

“I’m sure that Thor would appreciate the opportunity to remain with the prince.” Heimdall huffed, when the three slowed to a stop before a door, to which Thor felt a surge of gratefulness well within his chest. 

“Oh, right.” Bruce nodded enthusiastically, practically jittering as he hastily undid one key from the ring still in his hand. “Alright, then...Here.” he handed the key over to Thor, who, after some shifting, managed to take it. “This is you guys. We’re literally right next door.” 

“I thank you, Bruce.” Thor nodded, and managed to muster a warm smile for his friend. 

“Nah,” Bruce shrugged, and turned to open the door for Thor. “I’m gonna head into town and see if I can get us some medical supplies for, well--” he gestured to their small group vaguely. “This.”

“Thank you.” Thor repeated, before a small frown wormed its way onto his face, and he shook his head slightly. “But--We don’t have any means of payment.” 

“I, uh--” Bruce shifted and shrugged, not quite meeting Thor’s eyes. “I’ll figure something out.” 

Thor frowned and opened his mouth to reply, before he huffed as the insinuation behind the words registered. 

Perhaps Banner and his brother might have gotten along better than either of them believed, after all. 

The thought brought with it another stab of solemnity, and Thor forced himself to swallow it back before he shot Bruce a warning look. 

“Be careful.” he muttered, before turning to enter the cottage and turning to call over his shoulder, “And let me know when you’re back.” 

“Will do.” Bruce agreed, and reached out to shut the door behind Thor’s entry, leaving him and Loki alone in the sudden too-quiet of the small cottage. 

The room before them was humble, boasting little more than two flimsy-looking beds in the middle of the main room, a small kitchenette, and a door directly to Thor’s right he assumed to be a bathroom. 

Not taking the time to properly assess his surroundings, Thor stumbled forward to lay Loki onto one of the small beds with a groan. 

Immediately, his ribs protested as he attempted to straighten, and Thor grit his teeth as he fell to sit on the mattress beside his brother’s knees, instead. 

“Alright.” he intoned a little breathlessly, and turned to give Loki’s still alarmingly grave features a stern look. “You can wake up now, brother. No more tricks.” 

Unsurprisingly, Loki did not stir (not that Thor had really expected him to), and Thor watched him through one narrowed eye for another long moment before he fell forward to rest his elbows on his knees and bury his face in his hands with a soft exhale. 

The stinging behind his good eye was back, and Thor forced himself to take deep, even breaths in and out through his nose in order to fight back the sensation. 

This was not the time to break down. Loki needed him. Eventually, his people would need him, and he needed to remain strong. 

For as long as it took. 

\---

After another hour of waiting in silence, there was a sharp knock at the cottage’s front door, the sound startling Thor into sitting upright on the bed opposite Loki where he had fallen to lie in an exhausted half-doze some time ago. 

“Thor?” Bruce’s slightly muffled voice called from the other side of the door. “It’s Bruce. I’ve got the stuff.” 

Thor shifted in preparation to stand, only to fall back against the pillows behind with a grimace as the pain at his temples gave a particularly sharp throb. 

“It’s unlocked.” he called, after a moment, feeling slightly foolish for not having thought to lock the door behind their entrance. 

The telltale sound of the doorknob rattling rang out, and moments later Bruce was striding hastily into the room, the door swinging shut behind him with a _bang_ that made Thor’s head throb again. 

“Any change?” Bruce inquired, and glanced briefly to where Loki was laid out on the other bed. 

“None.” Thor shook his head, his heart sinking slightly as he passed the information on. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Bruce told him. He was wearing a sweater now, Thor noted, and carrying a large backpack that he all but tossed to the floor, before taking a seat in the armchair beside Thor’s bed. 

“Have you seen to Heimdall?” Thor protested, when Bruce began to pull a variety of bottles and boxes out of the bag and lay them out on the bed beside Thor’s legs. 

“He’s taken care of.” Bruce told him, his focus mainly on uncapping the bottle in his hands, rather than Thor himself. “I wrapped the wound at his side as best as I could, though he’d already torn up one of the bedsheets to do it himself.” he added with a wince. 

“And he’s alright?” Thor pressed anxiously. 

“Thor,” Bruce shot him a somewhat stern, knowing expression. “He’s fine. He’s sleeping now.” 

He stood, then, and made a beeline for the kitchenette. “Are you gonna let me treat you now?” 

“I’m fine.” Thor argued, though any persuasiveness the words might have held was undermined almost immediately by the way he grunted, lowly, as another bolt of pain pulsed at his ribs. 

“Maybe leave the lying to Loki.” Bruce chided, and quickly returned to Thor’s bedside with a glass of water in hand. “What hurts?” 

“He’s worse off than I am.” Thor persisted, even as he took the proffered glass with an only slightly shaking hand. “You should--” 

“And he’ll kill me if he wakes up to find you refusing help for your own wounds.” Bruce interrupted firmly. “If he doesn’t feel like killing me just because.” he added on a mutter. 

“Fair enough.” Thor acquiesced, and watched as Bruce dumped a truly alarming amount of pills into one palm. “But you will look at him?” 

“Of course.” Bruce promised. “Now what hurts?” 

After Thor ran through his list of woes for Banner (sore ribs, aching head, and a number of lacerations on his arms after his run in with the makeshift, scrap metal bonds from earlier), he was given the handful of pills, plus the bottle, bandages wrapped around his wounds and ribs, and a stern warning from Banner to stay put, before the doctor rounded the bed and approached Loki’s. 

Only for him to hesitate about a foot away, his arms outstretched in an aborted gesture as he eyed the unconscious figure warily. 

“He, uh--” Bruce cleared his throat. “He’s not gonna like, jump up and stab me, is he?” 

“I’m relatively certain that his lack of consciousness is genuine.” Thor supplied, though he did shift minutely closer to the edge of the bed in case the need for him to intervene arose. “Though I will gladly take the fall for it if he does.” 

“Great.” Bruce muttered, and took a visibly deep breath before crossing the space left between him and Loki. 

True to form, Loki remained unresponsive as Bruce checked him over, a procedure that lasted shorter than Thor’s own check-up, and far shorter than Thor had been anticipating. 

“Well?” he prodded, when Bruce sat back onto his haunches beside the bed with a sigh. “Can you do anything?” 

“I’m not that kind of doctor.” Bruce told him, though it seemed more a knee-jerk response, than anything. “And even if I was, it’s...complicated.” 

“Complicated how?” Thor demanded, swallowing back the frustration he could feel rising within his chest at the words. “Is there anything we can do or isn’t there?” 

“Not really.” Bruce admitted, and turned to offer Thor an apologetic wince over his shoulder. “Not until he can tell us more. He got pretty battered around, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some bruised or cracked ribs, maybe. But…” 

“But?” Thor prodded, though he was unsure if he actually wanted to hear the answer. 

“His--” Bruce hesitated, and swallowed before continuing, “His neck is the worst of it. He’s breathing, but barely. His breaths don’t have a watery quality to them, thank god, but they’re definitely strained and wheezing. If I had to take a guess, I would say that his windpipe is pretty much crushed.” 

Thor felt his own breath leave his lungs in a _whoosh_ at the words, and had to brace both hands on the mattress below to keep himself from swaying. 

“Can--” his voice cracked badly, and he took a moment to clear his throat with a shake of his head before continuing, “Can we do nothing?” 

“I’m gonna apply some bruise salve to the worst of it, for now.” Bruce reassured. “And I’ll leave it here for you. But we won’t know a lot until he wakes up to tell us.” 

Thor paused, the information whirling dizzyingly through his mind on repeat, and pursed his lips before nodding for Bruce to continue. 

A few minutes passed in silence as Bruce gently applied the salve to Loki’s neck and jawline, before he capped the tube in his hand and handed it over to Thor. 

“Just in case.” 

“Thank you.” Thor nodded, and placed the salve beside the bottles, bandages, and various snacks that Banner had left on the bedside table. 

(Thor made a mental note to ask Banner at some point how he had managed to procure so many supplies without so much as a cent to their names, though he had a feeling that it was a story for a later time). 

There was a beat, before Bruce began speaking again. 

“Thor.” he inhaled softly, and shifted so that he was sat on the floor, his back pressed against Loki’s bed. 

“Buddy. I--I know that it’s not what you wanna hear right now, but...What are we gonna do?” he gestured at their general surroundings a little wildly with both hands. “I--I mean, what do we do next? Do we have a way to get in touch with Valkyrie? Or anyone? Where do we go from here?” 

Thor swallowed thickly as the weight behind the questions hit him, and took a moment to study the dirt-caked toes of his boots as he carefully considered how to respond. 

“I--I’m not sure.” he admitted, at length, and raised both shoulders in a sigh when Bruce shot him an alarmed expression. 

“When Heimdall is back to full strength, he can search for what’s left of our people.” he informed, because it had to be _when_ , and not _if_. 

“Okay.” Bruce nodded, and began to worry his bottom lip between his teeth as his gaze skittered away. “Alright. I don’t have a phone, but I can try and find a library that might have a computer. Maybe reach Tony that way? Through Twitter or something, I don’t know. He’d probably help us out, though.” 

Thor nodded gratefully, though only a handful of the words really made sense to him. 

“Alright.” he agreed. “From there we can decide what might be the appropriate next step.” 

“Okay.” Bruce repeated, and nodded again before getting to his feet. “I’ll go first thing, then.” 

It was the first time since their arrival that Thor had paused long enough to consider the time of day, and he found himself surprised when he glanced at the clock on the bedside table to find that it read 8:47pm. 

“Until then, we may as well get some rest.” Bruce was saying as he began to gather the items beside Thor’s bed, before he straightened and shot Thor a small smile. “Try and sleep, but wake me if there’s any changes with him.” he gestured first to Loki, then to the wall opposite Thor. “We’re in the room that direction.” 

“Alright.” Thor repeated for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour. “Get some rest. And thank you, again.” 

Something in Bruce’s smile softened, briefly, and his gaze flickered over Thor for another moment before he turned to exit the room with a soft, “No problem.” called over his shoulder. 

As soon as the door shut behind him, the ever-present, near stifling silence returned, leaving Thor to swallow thickly, before he stood and began to methodically remove the outer layers of his armour. 

Though, he conceded to himself, he had a distinct feeling that sleep would not come easily that night. 

\---

To Thor’s surprise, he managed to tear his gaze from the shallow rising and falling of Loki’s chest for long enough to fall into an exhausted and dreamless sleep sometime around 11pm, and did not reawaken until sunlight was streaming in the window by the door the next morning. 

And, even then, he only woke at all because some unnamed sound had rung out loudly enough to rouse him from his slumber. 

With a small groan, Thor rolled from his side to lie on his back, and scrubbed a hand wearily down his face, his various aches and pains beginning to register as he blinked away the last dregs of sleep from the forefront of his mind. 

He had always been a fast healer, though he suspected something about a brush with an Infinity Stone might have had something to do with the lingering pain at his temples and behind his eye. 

Before he could turn to retrieve the pills that Bruce had left out of the bottle for him to take, in case the pain persisted, the sound of shifting drew Thor up short, and he paused, his breath stilling in his lungs, before he turned to face Loki’s bed. 

Loki’s bed, upon which Loki himself was beginning to stir, his features (significantly less puffy than they had been yesterday, to Thor’s relief) pinched into a grimace. 

“Loki,” Thor breathed, before all but falling from his own bed to crash to his knees beside his brother’s. “Loki!” 

He reached out a hand and, after a moment’s hesitation, allowed it to fall to Loki’s shoulder. 

Almost immediately, Loki tensed beneath his touch, all but stilling in his movements as he inhaled sharply through his nose, once, before finally ( _finally_ ) opening his eyes. 

The first thing Thor noticed was that Loki’s eyes were spectacularly bloodshot. 

The second was the naked fear behind his brother’s gaze. 

“Loki!” Thor cried, even as Loki jolted into action and began to thrash away from his touch. “It’s just me! It’s just Thor. You’re alright!” 

If he heard or registered the words, Loki gave no indication. Rather, he continued to jerk away, his shoulder trembling violently beneath Thor’s hold now as his breaths left him in loud, rattling exhales. 

“Loki, Loki shh.” Thor warned, “You’ll hurt yourself. Brother, please--” 

Loki opened his mouth wider, a demand or cry of alarm no doubt on his tongue--

Instead, all he released was a small, broken sounding croak; something like a breathless exhale that stopped Thor dead in his tracks. 

A second passed, then two, before Loki’s features paled dramatically, and he swayed dangerously forward. 

“Loki,” Thor demanded, and reached up to grip his brother by both shoulders, now, his heart beginning to hammer within his chest when Loki did not so much as shift beneath the hold. “Loki, what is it? What’s wrong?” 

He questioned, demanded, even as the answer to his own question floated terrifyingly to the forefront of his mind. 

_No_ , he thought, his stomach turning violently as Loki continued to sway silently. 

No, no, no, no, _no_.

Not that. 

“Loki,” Thor croaked, unheeding of the moisture building at the corner of his good eye, or the way his jaw had begun to tremble as he continued, “Please. Please, brother. Speak to me.” 

At the words, Loki’s eyes flitted slowly up to meet his, and Thor felt his stomach turn again at the terrifying lack of life behind them. 

“Please.” he whispered, pressing his thumbs into Loki’s arms with an almost bruising force. 

There was a beat, before Loki opened his mouth, and inhaled steadily--

Only to let out what could not be qualified as even a whimper, his breath warm as it ghosted across Thor’s face. 

At the sound, Thor allowed his head to fall forward, and bit back the desperate wail that wanted to leave his own throat. 

Which was exactly when Loki began to thrash again. 

“No, Loki!” Thor surged upward and, catching sight of the wild panic behind Loki’s eyes, forced himself to offer a small smile, though he had a feeling that it came off as more of a grimace, than anything. 

“It’s alright!” he soothed, willing his hands to stop shaking as he continued to rub at Loki’s arms. “We--We’ll figure this out. We can figure this out, Loki.” 

Unheeding, Loki jolted again, his mouth opening in a soundless shout as he jerked back with enough force to strike his head against the wall behind. 

“Loki,” Thor warned, years of experience giving him just enough forewarning to dodge as Loki’s knee struck out, inches from his nose. “Loki, enough!” 

Loki kicked out again, and this time Thor caught a heel just beneath his ribs and fell forward with a grunt. 

“Enough!” he repeated, and surged forward to wrap both arms around Loki’s still writhing form at the shoulders. “Please, brother!” 

Loki’s breath was loud and harsh in his ear, even as it was only accompanied by a small, breathy croak, which only seemed to upset him further, if his increased struggling was anything to go by. 

That, or the desperate, soundless sob that escaped him not a second later. 

“Loki,” Thor whispered, and raised a hand to brace his brother’s jerking head against his shoulder. 

There was a beat, before Loki all but collapsed against his side, his form still wracked by violent shudders even as he fell mostly limp. 

“It’s alright.” Thor repeated a little breathlessly, and swallowed thickly against the helpless tightness he could feel cloying at the back of his throat. “We can figure this out. It’s alright, Loki.” 

And, though he did not so much as shift in reply, Thor got the distinct feeling that Loki did not believe him. 

Which was just as well, he supposed, as he wasn’t entirely certain that he believed himself, either. 

\---

At some point, Loki fell back into an uneasy sleep, his breaths still wet and ragged against Thor’s neck, and Thor was able to reluctantly break away for as much time as it took to practically sprint from the bed and fetch Bruce from the room next door and explain what had happened. 

The task took less than five minutes, but Thor was surprised to find Loki sat up against the headboard of the bed when he returned to the room with Banner in tow, his gaze trained listlessly on where his hands were sat limply in his lap. 

And, even as Thor and Bruce approached the bed, he did not react beyond a small inclination of his head. 

“Brother?” Thor had prodded anxiously, speeding the rest of the way across the room and, after hesitating briefly, took a tentative seat on the edge of the mattress. “Can you hear me?” 

To his relief, Loki twitched slightly at the words, before offering a slow nod. 

His eyes, however, remained pointedly downturned, and whatever relief Thor had felt promptly vanished. 

“Can he see?” he all but demanded of Bruce, the second the man had rounded the bed and began to hover uncertainly on the other side. “Brother, can you see?” 

Loki did not react beyond a small, troubled frown, which did nothing to ease Thor’s mind. 

“Hey, Loki?” Banner spoke before Thor could begin to shout, again. He paused, before leaning forward so that he was directly within Loki’s line of sight. “It--It’s Bruce. Can you hear me?” 

There was a beat, before Loki offered the same, slow nod he had offered to Thor. 

“Alright, that’s good.” Bruce praised. “I’m gonna move forward to check your eyes now. Is that okay?” 

Loki did not make an effort to reply and, after another half minute of silence, it became clear that he was not going to. 

“Alright.” Bruce repeated, and leaned forward so that he and Loki were almost nose to nose. 

To Thor’s surprise, Loki glanced upward, and raised one brow slightly at the sudden proximity. 

He did not, however, jerk away (another surprise), though Thor felt him tense slightly beside him. 

“Can you follow my finger?” Bruce inquired gently and, without waiting for Loki’s reply, raised one finger to hover between the two of them for a moment, before he slowly began to move it from side to side. 

Loki paused, and continued to eye Banner with a furrowed brow for a moment, before he obediently began to follow the movement of the finger with his still somewhat bloodshot eyes. 

“Okay, good.” Banner nodded before allowing the finger to drop, and glancing up to look at Thor. “His eyes are fine, I think. Pupils are a little blown, and the whites of his eyes are totally bloodshot. But that’s normal after…” he trailed off with one, hesitant glance back toward Loki’s still frighteningly blank expression. 

“And his, his--” Thor swallowed and found, to his horror, that he wasn’t quite able to bring himself to verbally bring light to the issue at hand. 

Luckily, Bruce seemed to be able to read the question for what it was, and leaned back to perch at the very end of the mattress before he seemed to address the both of them. 

“I can’t be sure, but I have a feeling that his vocal cords were damaged in the--the fight.” he cleared his throat, and reached up to rub at his face, pushing at his nose to adjust a pair of glasses that weren’t there. “His windpipe is definitely damaged, though to what level of severity I honestly have no clue.”

“But he will heal?” Thor pressed anxiously, even as he mentally conceded that Bruce probably had no better idea than he. 

“I don’t know.” Bruce admitted with an apologetic shrug. “With a human, I’d say there’s little to no chance. But you guys heal fast, right? I mean--” he hesitated, then turned to face Thor directly. “I mean, Asgardians do, right?” 

If Loki noticed the slip, he did not react. And, rather than feel relieved, Thor felt only bitterness. 

Typically, there was little Loki hated more than being spoken of as if he was not in the room. This disinterest, therefore...This blatant disregard for what was going on around him…

It turned Thor’s blood to ice. 

“We do.” he admitted, at length. “And Loki has never shown any tendency toward deviation.” 

Bruce nodded fervently, his gaze already drifting away as if he were working something carefully through his mind. 

“Makes sense.” he murmured, mostly to himself, before he met Thor’s eye, again. 

“I think it’s a waiting game, more than anything.” he informed, “The swelling in his face has already gone down, which is a good sign. If things start to improve, we’ll know pretty soon, I think. Otherwise…” 

The unfinished sentence hung on the air between them, spreading like a dark stain on a tablecloth, and Thor felt the nausea beginning to churn within his gut again at the thought.

The very _idea_ that this might not be simply a passing ailment. 

Before Thor could begin to think of a reply, Bruce turned his full attention on Loki, again. 

“Loki,” he began, voice held carefully low and gentle in a way that Thor knew would have irritated his brother to no end, on any other occasion. 

As it was, Loki simply blinked lazily in response, before glancing up to meet Bruce’s eyes. 

“Do you hurt anywhere else?” Bruce inquired. “Your ribs or stomach?” 

For a moment, Thor didn’t think that Loki was going to dignify that with a response. Then, his brother visibly tensed his shoulders, before offering a quick shake of his head. 

“Okay, good.” Bruce smiled gently. “How about your throat? Does it hurt to swallow?” 

A nod, this time with no hesitation. 

“Okay.” Bruce repeated, before shifting to glance at Thor. “Maybe some tea, and soup if he’ll take it. And the salve should help.” 

Thor nodded, not bothering to inform Bruce that, even in youth, Loki would have rather seen the gates of Hel than be forced to eat when he did not feel like doing so. 

Instead, he simply stood in tandem with Bruce, before turning to reach out and squeeze Loki’s shoulder softly. 

“I’ll be right back.” he murmured and, after frowning briefly when Loki did little but tense beneath his touch in response, turned to walk Bruce to the door. 

“I don’t know how much he’ll be able to eat, with his throat like that.” Bruce informed quietly, when Thor caught up with him. “How long can you guys--he, go without food?”

“Couple of days, at most.” Thor replied with a frown. “Though I’d sooner not see it come to that.” 

“Right.” Bruce nodded. “Try the tea, first. I didn’t get a lot of soup, but I’m going back into town today.” 

“Be careful.” Thor repeated his warning. “We shouldn’t take any more risks than we need to.” 

“I won’t.” Bruce told him, before reaching out to rest a hand on Thor’s arm. “He’ll be fine, Thor. We just have to be patient.” 

“I know.” Thor offered a tight smile, and tamped down on the urge to wax about just how much he disliked being patient. 

After all, if it meant Loki healing well enough to be able to speak again, he would steel himself and endure all the patience in the world. 

It was with that thought in mind that he saw Bruce off, and watched him disappear around the corner out the small window by the door, before he turned on his heel to reenter the room that was already beginning to feel stiflingly small. 

Thor was drawn to a halt, however, when his gaze landed back on Loki’s bed. 

Or, more appropriately, where Loki was laid out on the bed, curled on his side with his back pointedly to Thor. 

“Loki?” Thor called, and took another step closer to the figure on the bed. “Are you asleep?” 

He felt monumentally foolish as soon as the words had left his mouth, given that Loki could hardly reply, at present. 

Particularly not when he was seemingly refusing to interact with Thor, on any level. 

With a small huff, Thor crossed the room to sit on the edge of his own bed, elbows on his knees and gaze trained firmly on Loki’s back. 

“Brother,” he began, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “We--Everything will be alright.”

It seemed a weak reassurance, even to his own ears-- an effect that was not at all helped by the way Loki curled slightly further into himself at the words. 

Thor exhaled another unsteady sigh, and reached up to scrub fretfully at his mouth with one hand. 

The two of them sat like that, immobile, for a long while; Thor watching the minute trembling of Loki’s shoulders, and the only sound Loki’s small, breathy exhales in the otherwise suffocating silence of the room. 

\---

Loki would not take any tea. 

And not for lack of trying on Thor’s part. For the past three hours (following Loki’s two and a half hour nap), Thor had attempted to cajole his brother into not only drinking the multiple cups of tea he had prepared for him, but also into any attempts at conversation that could be conducted without Loki being able to verbally respond.

Obviously, this had not gone over well. 

Even if Loki were not an individual who relied heavily upon the combination of his sharp mind and even sharper tongue to carry a majority of the weight of his interactions (which, of course, he was), Thor had discovered, within the last few hours, that he himself was pitifully inapt at attempting conversation with anyone who was unable to respond in kind. 

Which, he considered, was woefully below the expectations of an Asgardian prince-now-king. 

He had, after all, spent centuries coming up with conversation topics on the fly, easily conversing with a variety of guests who might have otherwise been out of place in the royal dining hall, if only to please the Allfather. 

It seemed, however, that his skills were limited to friends, strangers, and guests of the royal family exclusively. When it came to attempting to identify conversation topics that might have a chance of persuading his now voiceless brother into something akin to a conversation, however, he was apparently left without a leg to stand on. 

A fact that was made undeniably apparent when, after Thor’s fourth attempt to get Loki to take at least a sip of his now lukewarm tea, Loki lashed out with a silent growl and struck the cup from Thor’s hand entirely. 

“Loki!” Thor chided, before he could stop himself, and rose to grab a towel from the kitchen. 

Willing himself to be patient, Thor inhaled a deep breath before returning to the main room to begin sopping up the lukewarm tea from the carpet. 

“Alright,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before tossing the rag into the corner, where it landed with a wep _plop_. “No tea, then. Noted.” 

Not that he was particularly happy about it. Although Loki had, in the past, had been known to become so preoccupied with certain endeavors of his own that he had often forgotten to eat or sleep, Thor certainly did not want to see it becoming a habit that reappeared at this point in time, when his brother was already obviously weak and shaken. 

As it was, Loki’s consistently lifeless stare was unnerving enough.

Thor turned to say as much (though perhaps with a bit more tact), only for the words to die on his lips when his gaze fell on where Loki was currently sat, perched on the edge of his mattress, and prodding tentatively at the still swollen skin of his neck with a grimace. 

It was the most lively expression Thor had seen on his face since he had awoken that morning (not counting his scowl as he had batted the tea out of Thor’s hand), and Thor felt something within his chest flutter with a vague sense of hope at the sight. 

“Is it paining you?” he inquired as he stood, and tried not to feel discouraged when Loki did not answer beyond turning to glare at the far wall, rather than meet Thor’s eyes. 

In fact, he felt that small flutter again, when Loki shrugged in reply, after a moment. 

It was hardly a heartening sign (it was, rather, an affirmative that Loki was in pain). However, Thor allowed himself the small bit of hope, regardless, as it was the first time since Bruce had left that Loki had offered any sort of response to Thor’s attempts at conversation, at all. 

“Alright.” Thor nodded once, twice, and took a moment to rub his hands hesitantly together, before he strode past Loki altogether and headed for the nightstand. “I have something that might help.” 

In less than a minute, he had scooped up the tube of bruising salve, and returned to crouch before where Loki was still sat, hunched and unmoving even as Thor reappeared in his line of vision. 

“It’s a salve.” Thor explained as he uncapped the small tube he held. “Like we had on Asgard, though most likely much less effective.” he added with a small, private smirk. 

Loki, unsurprisingly, did not react beyond an unimpressed blink, though Thor knew better than to take it as a total rejection. 

“It should help, however.” he continued and, after squirting a generous amount of the paste onto the fingers of his left hand, raised the fingers in order to allow Loki to study the medicine. 

And, after a moment, Loki did, though this simply entailed his red rimmed eyes tracking over Thor’s fingers for a moment, before he turned away again with another small shrug. 

Still, it was something, and Thor decided to take it as an acceptance. 

Not allowing himself to hesitate again, Thor shifted so that he was sat up on his knees, and extended the hand with the salve to hover just a few inches from the skin of Loki’s neck. 

From here, he could feel the heat radiating from the bruises on the skin there, and he swallowed thickly before informing, lowly, “This might be cold.”

Loki only continued to eye him warily, breath beginning to come out in short, shallow pants as he leaned almost imperceptibly away from Thor’s touch. 

And, not wanting to allow Loki another moment to avoid the treatment, Thor nodded once before surging forward to slather some of the paste unceremoniously onto the bruises at Loki’s neck. 

He had expected a grimace. Had expected a glare or, potentially, a hiss at the contact. 

What Thor had not expected, however, was for Loki to buck backward at the touch with enough force to send him toppling over the other side of the bed. 

“Loki!” Thor cried, over the sound of Loki hitting the floor with a dull _thud_ , and hastily stood to round the bed. 

As soon as he laid eyes on where Loki was sprawled, however, Thor felt his breath dry in his throat. 

His brother was curled in on himself, eyes wide and frantic and skittering over every possible surface of the room as his breaths left him in audibly pained gasps.

What was perhaps worst, however, was the way his hands had twisted into gnarled claws, and were currently scraping at his neck, as if through this alone he might be able to lacerate the skin there and dig out whatever might be causing him pain. 

“Loki, no!” Thor cried, and fell forward to immediately grasp at Loki’s wrists, one in each hand, and draw them away from the now raw and further irritated skin of his throat. 

Immediately, Loki began to fight the hold, desperate and fearful tears welling in his eyes as his hands clenched and unclenched habitually, his mouth turned down into an ugly sneer. 

Somehow, he managed to break his left arm briefly free of Thor’s hold and, before Thor could react, raised it to scratch viciously at the skin on the left side of his neck. 

Blood began to bubble to the surface of the wound almost immediately, and Thor felt his stomach swoop unpleasantly at the sight of it. 

“Shh.” Thor soothed, even as he reached out to grasp at Loki’s left wrist again, and his grip tightened past what was probably the point of being painful. “Shh, Loki. Stop.”

If anything, Loki’s struggles only increased, and he began to hiccup a series of soundless, desperate sobs. 

“No,” Thor whispered, feeling his own eye beginning to prickle as he watched his brother curl miserably forward, hiding his face behind his knees even as he jerked within Thor’s hold. “Don’t, Loki. It’s alright.” 

What he could see of Loki’s shoulders began to tremble violently again, and Thor felt his stomach tighten at the sight. 

Unwilling to simply sit by and watch, Thor tentatively released his hold on Loki’s left wrist and, when it seemed that his brother was not going to move beyond curling further in on himself, he raised his arm to wrap it tightly around Loki’s shuddering shoulders. 

“Shh.” Thor soothed. “It’s alright. I’m sorry. I’m--” his voice broke, and he inhaled tremulously before surging forward to bury his face into the curls at the top of Loki’s head. “I’m so sorry. Loki, I’m sorry. I--I won’t do it again.” 

His voice had reached an almost shamefully pleading pitch, and yet Thor could not find it within himself to care. 

Below him, Loki continued to pant harshly and, though Thor could not see his face, he could just make out the imprint of his tears staining the knees of his trousers. 

“Oh, Loki.” he whispered, and gathered his brother impossibly closer, though he was careful not to even come close to touching his neck. “I’m so sorry.” 

Eventually, Loki’s shuddering calmed, and his wet and unsteady breaths began to even out against Thor’s collarbone. 

It wasn’t until he pitched limply forward, however, that Thor allowed himself to scoop his brother into his arms, certain now that he was asleep. 

Carefully, he placed Loki back onto his bed, and tucked the comforter tightly around his shoulders. 

And it was only when Thor was certain that Loki was not going to stir again that he allowed himself to turn on his heel before practically bolting into the bathroom. 

With just enough presence of mind to turn and lock the door securely behind him, Thor fell to the floor inside the small room, his back pressed tightly to the door and both hands already clasped over his mouth as his breaths left him sharply and unsteadily through his nose. 

_Breathe_ , he reminded himself firmly. He couldn’t afford to be weak, now. His people needed him. 

_Loki_ needed him. 

It was with this thought firmly in mind that Thor slowly, tentatively removed his hands from his mouth and gulped a deep, steadying breath. 

They would be alright. This was a passing thing. Loki would heal, and--

Suddenly and without warning, Thor’s gaze fell onto where his right hand was still quivering atop his knees, which had somehow come up to press tightly against his chest, in the past few minutes. 

His right hand or, more appropriately, the thumb of his right hand, which was currently speckled in what was inarguably Loki’s blood, no doubt smeared there the minute Loki had begun to claw at his own neck. 

At the sight, Thor choked on another inhale and, briefly fearing that he might vomit, raised his left hand to clasp it back over his mouth. 

The burning had returned behind his good eye and, try as he might, Thor could not blink back with enough force to banish it entirely. 

So, with no one there to watch and witness his weakness, Thor allowed himself to curl forward, forehead rested on his trembling knees, inhaled sharply, and began to weep. 

\---

Somewhere between bawling in the corner of the dark bathroom like a small child and falling into an exhausted sleep on the flimsy mattress of his own bed, Thor had somehow managed to get to his feet and find his way back to the main room. 

He did not remember this, however. In fact, he remembered very little following his locking the bathroom door behind himself, and it was therefore with a sense of muddled confusion that he woke some time later, brow furrowed as he cast his gaze warily about the still dark of the room. 

Before he could dwell on the specifics, however, a soft noise from the bed opposite alerted him to the fact that he might not have been the only one who had been roused from sleep. 

And, true to form, when Thor turned to face Loki’s bed, he was met with the sight of his brother’s back, rising and falling with breaths too quick to be mistaken as anything but entirely awake. 

With a soft sigh, Thor sat up, and allowed his bare feet to rest against the thick plush of the carpet for a moment before he stood to cross the room. 

“Hey,” he whispered as he crossed the room and, still blinking himself into total wakefulness, strode past the end of Loki’s bed. “Loki?”

He stumbled to a halt, however, when his gaze fell on where Loki was curled, hands wrapped with a white-knuckled grip around his elbows and wide eyes steadily leaking tears. 

Thor felt something within him clench at the sight, and didn’t waste any time in kneeling beside the bed. 

“Hey,” he repeated, and extended a hand to hover just above one of Loki’s visibly tremoring hands. “Are you hurt?” 

Briefly, Thor allowed his eyes to flicker to the self-inflicted welts at the side of Loki’s neck, before he shook himself and leaned down in an attempt to catch Loki’s distant gaze. “Loki?” 

Loki did not reply, though Thor noted with some dismay that his shivering had begun to increase. 

_Shock_ , Thor registered distantly. He had seen similar behavior hundreds of times on the battlefield, though it made Thor’s heart clench to see that look on Loki’s face. 

“Okay,” he murmured, and allowed his hand to rest gently on Loki’s arm, though he was unsure as to whether he should be relieved or concerned when Loki did not so much as twitch in reaction to the touch. “It’s alright, Loki. I’m here.” 

If anything, Loki’s trembling only became more violent, and his teeth began to chatter audibly in the otherwise still quiet of the room. 

“Are you cold?” Thor inquired, a little taken aback, though he could not deny the chill of the limb beneath his hand. 

It was only then that he realized distantly, far too belatedly, that Loki was still clad in most of his armour, and caked in various layers of grime and blood from the events of the day before. 

(Though, for as distant as it felt to Thor now, they could have taken place weeks before). 

And, as guilty as he felt at the realization, Thor was also struck by an idea.

“Loki,” he began, a little tentative but determined, nonetheless. “Do you want to wash up?” 

Countless times in the past, Thor could recall Loki being in a foul mood after a hunting trip or another excursion gone awry. While Thor and his friends would often revel in the mishaps, laughing and immediately wanting to toast their surviving another quest, Loki would, more often than not, excuse himself in favor of disappearing to wash up. 

And, though he had been teased mercilessly by everyone involved (Thor included) for “not being able to handle a little dirt”, Loki would almost always reappear in much brighter spirits, washed and glowing in a fresh set of clothes with his hair neatly combed back, again. 

In fact, Thor considered, there were few of Loki’s sour moods that could not be cured by a simple bath.

And though he was pointedly aware that their present situation hardly counted as a simple “sour mood”, there was little he had to lose by offering the suggestion. 

To Thor’s surprise, Loki stilled somewhat at the words, his brow slightly furrowed, before he turned to give Thor a vaguely questioning look. 

“There’s a bath!” Thor hastened to continue, encouraged by the bit of life he could see behind Loki’s eyes, now. “It’ll be warm, and you can wash your hair, if you wish.”

There was a stretch of silence, then, so long Thor prepared himself for Loki to turn back to study the wall in silence, again, and continue to ignore Thor entirely. 

He nearly grinned outright, therefore, when his brother eyed him another long moment more, before offering a small, almost imperceptible nod. 

“Alright!” Thor cheered quietly, working to keep his enthusiasm in check, as he knew that his making a fuss might easily irritate Loki into refusing to move at all. “Let’s just--Can you stand?” 

Loki shot him a warning look, before shifting to sit upright. 

It seemed irritation was not entirely off the table then, Thor considered, though he could not find it within himself to be discouraged by the fact, even as he politely averted his gaze as Loki scrubbed the lingering tears from his face until the skin there was bright red and raw. 

“Alright.” Thor repeated, before standing and gesturing toward the door to the bathroom at the other end of the room. “I’ll just, uhm, fill the bath, then.” 

Not wanting to hover, and therefore court the chance of Loki clamming up again and refusing to follow, Thor nodded briskly before turning to head back into the bathroom. 

Once in the small room, Thor took care to flick on the small light that hung over the sink, this time, though it seemed half dead, and hardly cast more light than a small candle. 

Even still, it was better than nothing, and Thor regarded it for a moment before turning to begin filling the tub. 

The water (warm enough to soak, but not hot enough to irritate) was lapping at about the halfway point, and Thor was preparing himself to stand and check on Loki’s progress, when a small shuffle sounded from behind him. 

Loki was stood in the doorway, watching Thor warily as he leaned against the frame, arms tucked carefully around his middle and shoulders hunched almost to his ears. 

He looked small. Small and hesitant and frightened and everything Loki should _not_ , so much so that Thor felt something within his chest shift unpleasantly at the sight. 

Rather than let his displeasure show on his face, however, Thor merely nodded and offered a small smile. 

“Brother,” he greeted, and tested the temperature of the water once more before he stood and crossed the room to pause at Loki’s side. “It should be comfortable, now. I--Do you know how to turn the water off?” 

Loki shot him a mild glare, which Thor decided to take as an affirmative. 

“Alright,” he agreed with a small huff. “Then if you need me, I’ll just be--” 

He cut himself off, then, one foot already halfway out the door, as he felt a hand latch tightly to his arm. 

“Loki?” he inquired, his gaze flitting briefly down to the pale hand that was currently curled around his right wrist, before it landed on Loki’s face. 

There was a beat, before Loki turned, slowly, and raised his eyes to meet Thor’s own. 

There was fear there, Thor noted, though it was almost overshadowed by the blatant pleading at the forefront of his expression. 

A little taken aback at the sight, Thor frowned before leaning slightly closer, his left hand coming up automatically to cup Loki’s elbow in as comforting a gesture as he could manage. 

“Loki,” he repeated, quieter now. “Do--do you want me to stay?” 

Loki, for his part, merely blinked, his eyes wide and somewhat luminous, before he glanced pointedly away as if to convey that he did not care either way. 

_I’ll be fine_ , Thor could practically hear him dismiss. _Do as you will_. 

To anyone else, it would have been a clear dismissal. 

To Thor, however, who had been Loki’s brother since before either of them could properly remember, knew to recognize the gesture for what it was. 

_I’m fine_ , Loki might say, only for his actions to clearly convey otherwise. 

_Do what you want_ , he would dismiss, only for his eyes to plead, _Stay_. 

It had taken Thor too long, in his opinion, to recognize the behavior for what it was, and he did not have any intention of allowing himself to fall for the tricks any longer, now that he had. 

“Alright.” he agreed with a small, encouraging nod. “Alright, Loki. I can stay.” 

It reminded him starkly of a number of nights in their youth, when he would promise to stay with Loki in his chambers during a particularly loud thunderstorm, or after a nightmare that lingered for a particularly long time following. 

And normally, he considered, Loki would have bristled immediately at the placating tone. 

Now, however, he simply deflated slightly, and glanced back to meet Thor’s gaze with an expression so openly grateful, Thor nearly had to glance away beneath the force of it. 

He did, however, glance away politely as Loki slowly and painstakingly began to remove the outer layers of his armour, and only turned back when he heard the telltale splash of him slowly settling into the tub. 

Thor watched, shuffling a bit awkwardly from foot to foot, as Loki settled until the water was lapping at his sharp collarbones, his eyes already beginning to go distant and unfocussed again as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

He did not turn to face Thor again, almost as if he had begun to forget where he was entirely (almost as if he was attempting to do so intentionally) and, after a moment, Thor allowed the thought to spur him into action, and strode forward to take a seat on the floor beside the tub. 

They sat in tense silence for a few moments, the only sound the water gushing unsteadily from the tap echoing against the tiles in the small and enclosed space, before Thor allowed himself to deflate slightly and fall forward with a sigh. 

If Loki wanted him here, he considered a bit ruefully, then he may as well remind him that he was here. 

“Banner says that Heimdall is doing better.” he informed, making a point of studying his still bruised and battered knuckles, though he noted absently that Loki’s shoulders tensed slightly at the sudden noise.

“He was stabbed in the ribs, during our escape.” Thor continued, almost casually. “Which was by Bifrost, by the way. He harnessed its energy with nearly the last dregs of his own.” 

If the words were registering to Loki at all, he made no indication. Rather, he continued to sit almost entirely still, his only movements his slight, rattling breaths that did not seem nearly deep enough to fill his lungs entirely. 

The water was rising near the edge of the tub now and, almost subconsciously, Thor leaned forward to turn the tap off with a _click_ , leaving the room almost entirely in silence, beyond the soft sound of the water lapping against the porcelain of the tub. 

“Once he heals of his wounds, he--” Thor inhaled softly, and raised a hand to absently rub at the tightness that had begun to take up residence between his lungs at some point without him realizing it. “He should be able to extend his sight further. See where our people might have escaped to.” 

_If they escaped_. A small, traitorous voice at the back of his mind whispered, though he hastily swatted the thought away before he could dwell on it too thoroughly. 

_**Your** people_, Loki might have (probably would have) corrected, under different circumstances. 

As it was, the way he tensed slightly at the words was enough to clue Thor in to what his brother might have been thinking. 

“They’re your people, too.” he countered against the silent argument, before he could quite stop himself, and could not help but notice the way Loki shifted slightly in reply, though whether it was born of surprise or irritation, Thor could not tell. 

Knowing Loki, it was probably a healthy dose of both. 

A tremulous silence fell between them, then, though Thor noted that Loki’s breaths had begun to grow slightly harsher and less even. 

Even still, he willed himself to keep his gaze carefully trained on his hands, and his tone carefully level as he continued. 

“I was frightened, you know.” he divulged, quietly, after a moment. 

Beside him, Loki stilled further, though his head remained pointedly turned away from Thor, his gaze trained on the tile of the shower wall to his right. 

Nevertheless, Thor continued, forcing himself to remain unperturbed at the lack of response. 

“At first, I was just--” he inhaled sharply through his nose, and fought the urge to curl forward and allow his eye to fall shut in order to block out as much of their current situation as he possibly could. 

He was tired of running, he realized with a jolt. Sick and exhausted of hiding and skirting around issues and discovering new and unpleasant surprises around seemingly each and every corner. 

No more, he decided firmly, and opened his mouth to give voice to the emotions he had felt welling within him since the minute their ship had been boarded. 

No more. 

“I was angry.” Thor admitted, a little breathlessly. 

And at that, his next words began to leave him in a rush, as if a dam had burst open. 

“I--You had the Tesseract, and I was _angry_.” he cried, and only registered a distant flicker of guilt when Loki flinched slightly at the words. “No, I was furious! I--I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know if you took it for yourself, to try and--and take over Midgard again, or--or to help _him--_ ”

He was cut off, then, by a sudden movement to his right, followed by a generous amount of water spilling over the side of the tub and directly into his lap. 

“What--” 

Immediately, one of Loki’s hands shot out to grasp at his arm, almost alarmingly cold against his skin, and Thor could not have stopped himself from rounding to meet his brother’s eyes even if he had tried. 

His brother’s eyes, which were wider than Thor could remember ever having seen them, and filled nearly to the brim with a sort of frantic urgency. 

“I--” Thor faltered, and felt his stomach flip slightly when Loki slowly, very slowly, began to shake his head, his brows furrowed severely even as his chest began to rise and fall with increasing rapidity. 

“You--you weren’t going to help him?” Thor ventured, though Loki had already begun to shake his head vehemently halfway through the sentence. 

Thor was struck, then, by the memory of the Titan’s words on the Statesman. 

He had disregarded them at the time, nearly senseless with pain and disorientation, but they returned to him now with an almost startling clarity. 

_If you consider failure experience…_

“You knew him.” Thor breathed, the look of pure, unguarded terror on Loki’s face as the Titan’s ship had risen into view floating to the forefront of his mind. 

(“Thor,” he had whispered, eyes wide and breaths already leaving his chest in ragged pants. “We have to go. Go _now_.”)

If possible, Loki’s cold fingers tightened further around Thor’s wrist, now, and his mouth thinned into a grim line even as his jaw began to quiver visibly. 

“You knew him.” Thor repeated, his gaze falling away as his pulse began to roar in his ears. 

_Destiny arrives all the same…_

Loki’s failure on Midgard…

“And he knew you.” 

If anything, Loki’s eyes almost seemed to grow wider, before he turned to bury his face behind his knees, his shoulders beginning to tremble with enough force to cause the water around him to ripple. 

“How?” Thor demanded, before he could stop himself, though he immediately felt a surge of regret crest within his chest when Loki flinched violently at the question. 

_How do you know him?_ He wanted to demand, shout even. 

_How does he know you?_ Or, _What did you do?_

Or, possibly more importantly;

_What did **he** do? _

Rather than give voice to the questions battling for dominance at the forefront of his mind, however, Thor forced himself to take a deep and steadying inhale and relax his hands that had clenched into tight fists. 

“I’m sorry.” he murmured, “I--You don’t have to talk about it.” 

_**Can’t** talk about it_, his mind reminded, unhelpfully. 

If Loki heard the apology, he did not react. Rather, he began to curl further in on himself, arms wrapped tightly around his knees as he continued to shiver miserably. 

Thor surveyed him for a moment, his heart twisting slightly as he watched the tips of Loki’s matted curls brush the surface of the water. 

Immediately, it seemed, the water began to skim with a layer of grease stemming out from the tips of his hair, and Thor frowned before he reached out to grasp at one of the shampoo bottles that were perched on the corner of the bath. 

“Loki?” he inquired, gently enough, he hoped, to avoid startling his brother again. 

To his relief, Loki stilled slightly at the call, though he did not flinch again. 

“I can--” Thor paused, before he reached out a hand to let the very tips of his fingers brush the crown of Loki’s head. 

“I can wash this.” he murmured and, when Loki did not shy out from beneath his touch, began to run the very tips of his blunt fingernails gently through the damp curls. “If you’d like.”

Beneath him, Loki continued to breathe shallowly, though after a moment he slowly (miraculously) began to uncurl, until he was able to peer cautiously at Thor over the side of his arm. 

“If you’d like.” Thor repeated, and swallowed thickly before offering Loki a small, private sort of smile. 

After another long pause, Loki hunched his shoulders and turned to rest his cheek against his knees in order to avert his gaze, but managed a small, tentative nod. 

“Okay.” Thor murmured, and reached forward to rest the palm of his right hand against the crown of Loki’s head. “Alright.” 

From there, they fell into something of a routine, Thor scooping a handful of water into both palms, before pouring it as gently as possible over Loki’s curls and, after allowing Loki a moment to still his shivering and compose himself, would repeat the process. 

“We’ll find some way out of this.” Thor whispered, as he began to gently massage a generous amount of the shampoo into Loki’s now thoroughly damp curls. 

Whether he meant out of Loki’s current inability to speak, his as previously unnamed association with the Titan, or simply their entire situation as a whole, Thor was entirely unsure. 

Nevertheless, he felt that it was important to extend the sentiment, all the same.

Loki nodded slightly, almost dismissively, as if he did not truly believe the words (and really, Thor couldn’t blame him entirely), before his eyes fluttered obediently shut as Thor began to rinse the suds from his hair. 

“I mean it.” Thor continued as he stroked his thumb soothingly over the side of Loki’s head. “We’ll find the others, and we won’t--won’t have to run anymore. We--” 

_Destiny arrives all the same…_

Thor inhaled sharply through his nose, and blinked rapidly against the burning he could feel beginning to build behind his eye, again. 

“We--” 

The sound of gentle splashing rang out, then, before Thor felt one cool hand rest lightly, almost hesitantly, on the skin of his forearm. 

And, when he turned to meet Loki’s narrowed gaze, he felt one tear streak down his cheek unbidden. 

“Sorry!” he croaked immediately, and raised a hand to hastily swipe at the moisture building at the corner of his eye. “I’m--We’ll be fine! We can--” he exhaled raggedly and dropped his gaze, finding that he could hold Loki’s no longer. “We--” 

Abruptly, the hand left his arm, and Thor felt a deep sense of loss well within his chest at the movement, though he knew it was deserved. 

He was a _king_ , after all. He was supposed to take care of those around him, of _Loki_ , and yet here he was, fumbling at the edges of his composure like a child after his first battle. 

Then, quite without warning, Loki’s hand rose to press against Thor’s left cheek, the thumb moving to tremble slightly against the damp skin just below his good eye. 

And, when Thor found it within himself to meet Loki’s gaze again, he was met with a gentle, curious sort of concern. 

He barked a sound not unlike a sob, then, and curled forward to rest his forehead upon the sharp jut of Loki’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispered fiercely. “It’ll be alright. Loki!” 

He jerked upright abruptly, and extended the hand not currently tangled in Loki’s curls to rest upon the other side of his head. “We’ll be alright. I swear it.” 

Loki pursed his lips, and his gaze flickered briefly, almost searchingly over Thor’s face, before his eyes fell closed and he curled slightly closer, his free hand rising to curl tentatively around Thor’s wrist. 

“I swear.” Thor repeated breathlessly, and leaned forward to press a long kiss into Loki’s hair at the crown of his head. 

“We’ll be alright.” he whispered into the damp curls there.

Thor placed another kiss on Loki’s head, before moving to kiss his temple, then his cheek, before he leaned back to rest their brows gently together. 

Beneath him, Loki released a long and tremulous breath, and Thor tugged him impossibly closer in response. 

“You’ll be alright.” 

\---

An indeterminable amount of time later, Thor found himself laid out on his bed and curled tightly around Loki’s back, arms tight around his brother’s middle and holding him tighter than he had since before they were tweens. 

And, though Loki had fallen asleep some time before, he continued to tremble slightly beneath Thor’s touch, leaving Thor to do little but rub soothingly at his arm and will him to calm. 

“Shh.” he whispered into the dark, though he knew Loki could not hear him. “Hush. You can rest, now.” 

Rationally, he knew that there were a myriad of problems the next day was sure to bring. 

They still needed to locate their people. Still needed a means of payment for their current stay, as well as any expenses that were sure to come in the next few weeks. 

They were all still healing, and running short on food. 

The Titan ( _Thanos_ ) was still out there, somewhere, hunting for the remaining Infinity Stones and, quite possibly, the remaining Asgardians. 

And, even still arguably more pressing than the rest (though Thor had a feeling that his priorities were slightly skewed), Loki remained unable to speak. 

And yet, with Loki resting easier than Thor had seen in years within his arms, Thor found that he was able to believe his own words. 

If only for the time being. 

“We can rest, now.”

**Author's Note:**

> so, if things continue to go according to plan, there will be a part 2 to this that will fill one of the two whumptober prompts i have left in my inbox. that being said, since i'm literally posting this on the last day of October, this is a sort of unofficial end to whumptober for me!
> 
> i really want to extend a _huge_ thank you to everyone who's read these fills, taken the time to leave such lovely comments, and messaged me on tumblr. i really never would have thought myself capable of writing with enough enthusiasm to hit almost 100k words in a month at the beginning of this year, and have thoroughly enjoyed myself doing so. so thank you so so much !
> 
> obviously, i'm not ending here. i have two more whumptober prompts, other prompts to fill, and about a hundred works of my own i want to pound out. regardless, this is a thank you!
> 
> (also, i am not a doctor and have very, very little understanding of medical language or how the human body works. if there are any glaring mistakes in here because of that, feel free to openly rib me for them !)
> 
> [tumblr !](http://littlekinng.tumblr.com) xx 
> 
> happy halloween !!!!


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